Beyond the Picket Fence: And Other Short Stories

by Lori Wick

  The wedding was set for the first Saturday in June. It was warm and breezy, the weather almost as lovely as the bride herself. A small service was planned at the church with a large reception to follow at the community hall. Tim Warburton, who would walk Nikki down the aisle, Dorian, and Theo, who would stand as best man, went ahead to the church. The bride, her

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  mother, and Petra, Nikki's maid of honor, were coming on their own.

  "All right." Virginia's voice was all business. "Have we got everything?"

  "I think so," Nikki said, her eyes glancing about.

  "Petra, did you use the bathroom." "Yes, and I washed my hands." "Good job. Let's head to the car."

  The three trooped out in all of their finery, Petra in pink lace, Virginia in pale blue silk, and Nikki in an old-fashioned white lace dress that fell to midcalf and showed off her high-buttoned white boots. The dress was not the type that needed much babying, so she climbed behind the wheel of her small car and they headed down the road.

  When the flat tire hit about a mile down the road, it took everyone by surprise. The car swerved a little, jerking the inhabitants around before Nikki maneuvered to the shoulder.

  "I refuse to believe that was a flat, Dominique," her mother said softly. "We're already running a bit late."

  "Well, Mom," Nikki replied, unable to stop her chuckle, "I think you're going to have to face facts. Are you all right, Petra?'' Nikki shifted to look into the back.

  "I didn't like that." Her voice shook a little.

  "It was a little scary, wasn't it?"

  Petra nodded but didn't cry, and even managed a smile when Nikki reached back to stroke her leg.

  "I think I'll get out and have a look," Nikki suggested. "Watch your dress," Virginia warned. "I will."

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  Looking did no good, but getting out in the air helped Nikki to think over her options. They were still quite a distance from any houses or businesses. It was hard to know what to do: head back to the house or try to walk toward town. Petra suddenly spoke before Nikki even realized she'd gotten out of the car.

  "We can go back and get my dad's car. He won't mind, Nikki."

  "We could, Petra, but even if I walked all the way

  back, I don't have a key to it." "He leaves the keys in it." "Every time." "I think so."

  Nikki thought it might very well be true, but she wasn't taking a chance.

  "How does it look." Virginia called from the window.

  "It looks flat, but I think I should just try to change

  it."

  Her mother was out of the car almost before Nikki could finish speaking.

  "Your dress will never survive, Nikki. Maybe if we

  just wait a little longer..."

  "What time is it."

  Virginia consulted her watch, and the face she pulled told Nikki they were running very late. Suddenly Nikki wanted to laugh. She bit her lip, but her mirth would not be squelched. Her mother tried to look stern, but it was no use. They giggled for a few moments; it was all so crazy. But light as the mood was, it didn't change the inevitable--a minute later Nikki popped the trunk in order to get at the jack and spare.

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  Dorian told himself that anything could have happened--the car may not have started, Petra could have become ill, anything. It probably wasn't anything very exciting either, but the need to know where his bride was pressed in more strongly by the second. At the moment he was very pleased that they'd opted for a private ceremony--the only people present were Pastor, Tim Warburton, and Theo. No one teased him, but everyone was very aware that the bride was late. Tim hung by the door in order to catch sight of her, and indeed, Dorian had stood with him for a time, but he now walked to the front pew, sat down, and stared at the cross that hung over the baptismal tank.

  He was still praying, giving this day to the Lord and asking for His peace, when Theo joined him.

  "You're trying not to worry, aren't you, Dad?"

  "I am working on that, Theo. It would be very easy to panic right now."

  "Should you call the house?"

  "I could, but something tells me that ifNikki could get to a phone, she would have called here first."

  Dorian looked down at his young face, marveling at how often he acted and spoke beyond his years.

  "I think it will be fine, Dad. Nikki's not the type to not come."

  "You're right; she's not." There was so much more to that statement than most people would have guessed. It caused Dorian to ask, "Did you think of your mother today?"

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  "Were you sad?"

  "No. Nikki is special, and Petra doesn't even remember Mom." Theo looked at his father. "Did you think of Mom?''

  "This morning, I did. I thought about the joy and peace the Lord has given me with Nikki, and so I prayed that wherever your mom is, she would turn to the Lord and live for Him."

  Theo nodded. "Nikki won't leave us, Dad. I just know she won't."

  Dorian smiled. "When did you grow up on me, Theo?"

  Theo only smiled, and Dorian put an arm around him. He continued to pray, but not just for himself: There was a little boy waiting with him, whose heart was as involved as his own.

  "How's it going?"

  "Not well," Nikki grunted, a trickle of sweat running down the side of her face. "They make this look so easy on TV, but two of these lug nuts do not want to budge." Nikki came to her feet. She'd been hunkered down so long that her back and legs were cramping. If she could have just dropped to her knees it would have been more comfortable, but her dress was going to be in bad enough shape as it was.

  She was taking a deep breath to go at it again when her mother said, "Oh, Nikki, look."

  She followed her mother's gaze; a police car was stopping. The sweltering bride could have wept with relief.

  130"This looks like fun," the tall trooper said with a smile.

  "Well, if I could get to the church, I think it might be more fun."

  The man stopped. "Dominique Brinks."

  "Yes,how did you know?"

  "My daughter reads your books, and you'd have thought it was her own wedding, the way she reacted when she learned the news."

  "Can you give us a lift?" Virginia asked. "We're running very late."

  "Absolutely. I'll even call road service for you and

  have this fixed. Where do you want the car delivered?""Tothe Bible Church."

  "All right. Hop in, and we'll be there in a few minutes." Petra had been watching from the backseat and now came leaping out to ride in the state trooper's car. This was almost as much fun as her father marrying Nikki.

  There was little Nikki could do with her hands and dress before they arrived, but the moment they pulled up in front of the church, she shot in the door and to the ladies' room to make repairs. When she emerged, Dorian was waiting. He was alone and came right to her. Nikki looked up at him and told herself not to bawl.

  "My dress got dirty, and I broke a nail," she whispered.

  "I don't care." He had eyes only for her face. "I only care that you're standing in this church and that you're going to become my wife."

  Nikki's chest lifted with a huge sigh. "I knew you would be a good sport, Dr. Swann."

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  BEYONDTHEPICKET FENCE

  Dorian offered his arm. "Come and be my wife, Nikki." Nikki was a girl who knew a good thing when she saw it; there was no need to ask twice. There was also no need to ask twice when, two hours later, Pastor Andersen asked Nikki to stand up and share her escapade for all at the reception. The natural storyteller emerged, and she had the occupants of the community hall in near hysterics as she told about the flat tire and the policeman's recognition of her.

  "His daughter is a big fan. I'd have offered to sign a book for her on the spot if I'd had one along."

  With that closing remark she sat back down next to Dorian, who leaned to kiss her. They shared a long look, each telling the other they couldn't wait to be alone.


  Three weeks later, the honeymoon over and Nikki completely moved in to the big white house, the children were in bed and Nikki was waiting for Dorian to come home. She had known there would be times when she would feel the strong effects of being a doctor's wife, and as she sat on the porch watching for his car, she knew there would be a lifetime of this. There was no anxiety in her, however. Dorian was the kindest man she'd ever known, and even when his patients needed him at inopportune times, knowing that he was coming home to her was comfort enough.

  Her heart leaped in her chest when she saw his lights, and she swiftly scooted inside to meet him at the kitchen door. They shared a kiss before Nikki told him she would put his dinner together, but Dorian told her he wasn't hungry.

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  "I find I just want to hold my wife," he said softly as he led the way to the big chair in the living room. He dropped into it, and Nikki climbed into his lap.

  "How was your day." Nikki was the first to ask this time.

  "Busy, but it went well. I've gained some kind of celebrity status now that I'm married to Dominique Brinks."

  "Is that right.'' Nikki knew when she was being teased.

  "Yes, it is. I saw two fourth graders today who had more questions about you than I had time for."

  Knowing he would just keep it up, Nikki tried not to smile. Still, a grin peeked through.

  "Yes, indeed," the physician went on, having the time of his life. "Me, a small town doctor married to the Dominique Brinks. And she even sits in my lap," he added with a mischievous lift of his brows.

  Nikki's smile was huge as she tenderly framed Dorian's face in her hands.

  "You may call me Mrs. Dorian Swann."

  And Dorian did, just before he kissed her again.

  A Note from Lori:Ilove Christmas movies, and just like Nikki; I make myself save them for the holiday season. Irving Berlin'sWhite Christmasrates very near the top for me, and it was from the movie that I used the name Pine Tree, Vermont. A careful search of the atlas told me there is no such town, but the name was so wonderful I couldn't resist using it.

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  But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the law of liberty, and abides byit, not having become a forgetful hearer but an effectual doer, this man shall be blessed in what he does. James 1:25

  Kelly Donovan pushed the glass office door open and then rubbed her sweating palms together as she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She was convinced at the moment that being a temporary secretary was the worstjob in the world--you never knew what you were going to find. She had worked for men and women who were absolute lambs and for others who had given her nightmares long after she'd moved on.

  Today and for the next eight weeks she would be working for a Mr. Nicholas Hamilton. He was a successful, high-powered criminal lawyer from a large private firm situated in downtown San Francisco, and he had actually contacted the Amos Secretarial Agency for a fill-in secretary himself. This was very unusual,

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  and Mrs. Kroft, the manager of the agency, had looked at Kelly with a steely glint.

  "I don't have to tell you how out-of-the-ordinary this is, Miss Donovan. You are my best secretary, and I cannot stress to you strongly enough that you must not let us down."

  Kelly's "Yes, Mrs. Kroft" had been meek but not feigned. She was a very sweet, even-tempered young woman, ready to please, and not given to allowing her life to be ruled by her emotions. This morning, however, she was nervous. Her last job had been almost a month long, but it had felt like a year. The man for whom she had worked had been impossible to please, and as hard as Kelly now worked at remaining calm,

  her palms still grew damp.

  "Who are you."

  A deep voice startled Kelly, and she jumped slightly. She hadn't even seen the other person.

  "I'm Kelly Donovan. The Amos Agency sent me." She was stared at by the owner of the voice as they stood together in the office/waiting room. He was at least 6'3", with very dark hair and startling blue eyes. His chin was determined, stubborn even, and his black brows met in a single line over a long, fine nose. There was a sprinkling of gray at his temples.

  "What do you want." he continued in that same deep tone.

  Kelly's hand literally dripped. "I was told you needed someone to do secretarial work; I must have the wrong office."

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  The man turned away from her then and stared at the empty desk as though just noticing it. Kelly was on

  the verge of leaving when he spoke, almost to himself. "She's having a baby."

  "I beg your pardon?" Kelly responded, desperately trying to keep up.

  "I need a letter," he told her. "Is that what you're here fore"

  "Yes, sir."

  With that he turned and went into his inner office. Kelly nearly tore her jacket off before frantically scrambling in the desk for a steno pad. In her two years of experience, she found that dictating letters was swiftly dying out, but if Mr. Hamilton wanted to dictate a letter, it was her job to oblige him. It felt like many minutes had passed before she found a pad and pen, but her new employer made no comment and began almost before she could take a seat. The phone rang once during his oration, but since he showed no signs of slowing, Kelly was forced to keep on.

  His terse "That will be all" ended the session as abruptly as it had begun, and Kelly retired to the outer desk to try to find her way around the strange computer and file system. She heard nothing from the inner office for the better part of two hours, and when

  her boss did appear, he looked surprised to see her. "Did you need something, Mr. Hamilton?"

  The tall man stared at her for a moment. "What was your name again?"

  "Kelly--Kelly Donovan."

  "Yes, right. Well, I need these notes typed before noon."

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  "Yes, sir."

  He left the papers without further word, and Kelly went to work. The phone rang a few times, but no one wanted to speak directly to Mr. Hamilton, so Kelly took messages. At 11:45 she knocked on the heavy oak door and was given permission to enter. She laid the letter from that morning and all the papers on his desk, but he never raised his head.

  Kelly had just let herself back into the waiting area when a woman came in. She was puffing like a steam engine and looked as though she was ready to deliver any moment; indeed, it looked like she might be carrying triplets.

  "Oh, thank heaven you're still here!" she gasped. "I was told only an hour ago that the woman who was to be here to start you couldn't make it. I'm so glad you stayed."

  Kelly only stared, and the woman apologized. "I'm sorry. I'm Brandy Clemens, Mr. Hamilton's

  secretary."

  "Oh," Kelly replied sympathetically. "I'm sorry you had to come in. I think I'm doing pretty well."

  "I know you are," Brandy exclaimed, "or you would have run by now."

  "I don't know what you mean," Kelly admitted, and Brandy came to a complete halt.

  "I can see that," she began slowly, "which can only mean he's having a good day."

  Kelly didn't know how to answer this, but Brandy only smiled at her.

  "Okay," she began, and in the next 30 minutes she gave Kelly a rundown on the operations. Kelly tried to

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  absorb everything and then had a few questions. Her heart silently praised God that she had done things right so far, but as Brandy left, she gave Kelly a word of caution.

  "Just remember that nothing is personal, Kelly.'

  "Okay," Kelly said, but her voice told the woman that she didn't really understand.

  Brandy tried again. "He's a very intense man to work for, and if he blows up at you, it's nothing personal. He just has a job to get done and can't anything else."

  Kelly nodded. This was something she cc understand, since many of her employers had been same way. Kelly thanked Brandy, who seemed relieved to be leaving, and returned to her work, b was several days before Brandy's words were n more than clear to Kelly. Calmly brush
ing her wind blown hair from her face, she walked into the office and was stopped short by her employer's voice.

  "Where have you been?" He was coldly furiou:

  Kelly took a swift glance at her watch; she was minutes early.

  "Where is the Morgan file?" he bit out. " have you done with it?"

  To Kelly's knowledge she had never seen th

  but she moved swiftly forward.

  "I'll check for you."

  The desk and files were a mess, and Kelly saw he'd been rifling through them. She looked sw but having Mr. Hamilton standing there glaring e made it rather strained, and he was right: The fil nowhere to be found.

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  "Could it be on your desk, Mr. Hamilton." Kelly finally ventured.

  The look she received was frightening, and his voice was angrier than ever.

  "Fine! If it will satisfy your curiosity, go ahead and look." His hand swept toward the door, but it was not a nice gesture.

  Kelly had no idea how to respond to his sarcasm, but she entered his office on shaking legs. In some ways she hoped the file wouldn't be there, as it was sure to put him in a worse humor. She looked anyway

  and produced the file in less than a minute.

  "Is this the one, Mr. Hamilton.''

  "Yes, Miss Donally." His voice was still terse. "I'll be in court for the remainder of the week."

  If Kelly had been able to see herself in the mirror at that moment, she would have seen a shaken redhead whose green eyes and freckles stood out starkly on her pale face. Her heart felt slightly crushed and beaten. It took a few minutes to remember Brandy's advice. With the thought, Kelly's chin rose ever so slightly.

  "My name's not Donally," she spoke softly to the empty room. "It's Donovan. Kelly Donovan."

  The next eight weeks were a roller coaster ride. Some days flew by and others dragged. Some days Mr. Hamilton was absentminded and kind, and others he was intense, rude, and overbearing.

  Kelly's good friend, Jill, was a constant help during those weeks. She was never too busy to listen, and she

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  and her new husband, Russell, had Kelly over to dinner several times.